With My Own Eyes
by Miran Anders
Summary: Sometimes Shawn's photographic memory is more of a curse than a blessing. When faced with a divorce case, old memories are stirred up. What started the bad feelings between father and son?
1. Back in the day

1986

Santa Barbara, California

The two boys walked in unaccustomed silence, ducking under a tree and through a loose piece of fence surrounding the school grounds. The usually quieter of the two glanced over at his friend, frowned, and grabbed some acorns from a low hanging branch. In six throws, he managed to score a hit on his friend's knapsack, arm, and finally, head.

His friend barely reacted, kicking a rock as they reached the edge of a field of grass. "What?"

"Usually I can't get you to shut up. Especially after a science test."

"Gus, you just don't get it."

"Then explain it to me."

Shawn kicked another rock as they walked across the field, and yelped as he realized it was only the tip of a much larger rock embedded in the ground. "Ow, ow, ow… stupid rock!" He hopped in a circle, and pulled his foot back to kick it again. Gus abruptly shoved him over backwards, and Shawn landed hard on his backside, staring up at Gus as his hair fell over his eyes. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"To keep you from breaking your stupid foot. C'mon, Shawn. What's going on?" Gus stood, waiting for an outburst that never came. Instead, Shawn opened his mouth, closed it, brought his knees up to his chest and dropped his forehead onto them. The sudden emotional silence made Gus worry more than any far-fetched story or insult.

"Nothing." They stood and sat there for a long minute, one not knowing what to say, and one not wanting to say anything. Eventually Shawn sat up, brushed his sleeve across his face. The anger in his voice seemed to be the only thing that kept him from crying. "I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"

His friend shuffled awkwardly, clearly distressed. It was one of those moments that his pre-adolescent mind couldn't quite grasp, but he was old enough to know that something big was going on. He struggled to find some grown-up sounds to go with the grown-up situation. "Okay, Shawn. It's… it's okay." He stepped forward and offered Shawn a hand getting up, which his friend stared at for a moment before he took. "Just…um… if you ever want to talk about… whatever… I'm here. Okay?"

They looked at each other, blue-green meeting deep brown. They didn't have the words yet, but somehow, the fact that there was someone in this insane, adult world that they could tell anything – or not tell anything – meant more then they could express. Shawn glanced across the field towards his backyard, nodded briefly. "Thanks, Gus." He stared at the back of his house, then looked back to his friend with determination. "Someday I'll want to talk about it."

* * *

present day

The paper airplane flew across the office, briefly casting a shadow over the letters on the window before hitting Gus in the temple. He jerked his head and turned slowly, glaring at the other desk. "Shawn. I am trying to get something done here. You could at least have the decency –"

"Oh, Gus, come on. You've been staring at that screen for over an hour. What could be so important –"

"You do realize that my other job is the only way I have health insurance."

"Right, right… by the way, did I mention that idea I had –"

"No, Shawn. We are NOT going to become domestic partners so that you can be covered by my health insurance. You need to stop getting business ideas from movies." He returned his attention rather pointedly to his computer.

Shawn rolled his eyes, his hands forming the words as he stalked across the office. "Fine. But you do realize that this job, the real job, the important job, is the reason you stay so healthy."

"Seriously?" Gus stared, his eyes telegraphing an annoyance he didn't really feel. They wouldn't have been the friends they were if he didn't find Shawn entertaining, at the very least.

"Absolutely. This job stimulates your mind, keeps you aware, excited… which releases endorphins, encourages serotonin production… it keeps your immune system on track. It makes perfect sense."

Gus shook his head, giving a disparaging look as he went back to the screen. "Of course it does."

"It does! You have to realize –" the phone rang, interrupting what would surely have been an extended rant about brain chemicals and solving mysteries.

Gus picked up the phone, a relieved look on his face. "Psych Detective Agency. Senior Investigator Burton speaking."

Shawn tipped his head and looked over at him indignantly. "Senior?"

Gus covered the receiver. "It's on my cards."

"Cards? You got cards? Why didn't I-"

"Because you printed your own two months ago, and they said you were President and CEO."

Shawn blinked, an expression of innocent mystification on his face. "Well… I am the psychic."

"Shawn, just - Yes, I'm here. How can I-" Gus nodded, frowned, nodded again. "Fine, Miss Tindale. We have an opening in –" he glanced at Shawn, noisily flipping pages in the pharmaceuticals manual in front of him with one hand as he gestured impatiently with the other, waiting for an answer.

Shawn looked at the remains of lunch on his desk, and the stack of earlier paper airplane flights that had missed, forming a small snowdrift against the wall near Gus's chair. "An hour?"

"An hour. Can you come in then? Good. We'll see you soon. Oh – make sure you bring a picture of your husband. Thank you."

Shawn turned quickly. "No, Gus."

"Come on, Shawn. We haven't had a job from the police in two weeks, and –"

"No, not a divorce case."

Gus stared at his friend for a long moment. "You want to tell me why?"

His partner sat down heavily at his desk, playing absently with some paper clips. "No. Not right now." Gus waited, still watching, as Shawn untwisted a paper clip and formed it into a tiny metal noose. When he held it up with a smirk, the expression on Gus's face made him frown. "What?"

Gus stood up and walked over to Shawn's desk, leaning back against it with his arms crossed on his chest. "You ever going to tell me the whole story?"

Shawn tilted his head, then looked down at his desktop, suddenly quite solemn. "Someday."


	2. Ms Tindale

1987

The tent was illuminated by the glow of three lanterns, two of which belonged to Burton Guster. Shawn let him bring the extra light with a minimum of kidding, mostly because he appreciated the light in the darkness almost as much as Gus did. Besides, he reasoned, it was easier to read their comics collection this way.

The only sound was their breathing and the slow turning of pages as they savored the latest issues. Shawn shook his head. "I can't believe Spidey is getting married."

"I know," said Gus, who had the Spider-Man issue first while Shawn read the new Batman. " Crazy, isn't it?"

Shawn turned another page. "I don't think it'll last."

Gus frowned at the Dark Knight in his hands, and looked over the comic at his friend. "Why's that?"

"'Cause it just happens. He'll screw it up somehow." Abruptly, Shawn tossed the comic to the side, and rummaged in his knapsack until he found a bag of beef jerky. He was chewing industriously, staring at stars through the mesh roof of the tent when he noticed that Gus was staring at him. "Oh. Want some?"

"Did your dad make it?"

"Yeah. It's his 'stake-out steak'. The good stuff."

"Does he know we're eating it?" Shawn gave him a smirk, took another piece and tossed the bag in a high arc. Gus caught it easily and took some of the spicy dried meat before looking at his friend again. "I swear, Shawn, it's like you're trying to make him mad these days."

"Why not? It's not like it's hard to do."

Gus stared at the jerky, then shook his head. "Shawn?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, dark eyes showing both concern and confusion. "You okay?"

There was a longer pause than was necessary before Shawn answered. "I'm okay."

"Okay." Gus let it sit a while, and then shook his head. "You sure?"

Shawn sighed, and turned off the lamp closest to him. "I'm okay." He was quiet for a long moment. "Gus?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember last summer, when you said if I wanted to talk…"

"Yeah. I remember." Gus turned off the light near his head, reached up and clicked off the overhead light as well. The remaining moonlight cast them in varying shadows. "What's up?"

There was a sigh in the dark, and he heard his friend's breath catch a bit. "You know how he wants me to notice everything, right?"

"Only all the time. Why?"

"Because I saw something. Something I don't think he wanted me to see."

* * *

present day

"All right, Mrs. Tindale, why do you think your husband… ah… is, um…"

Shawn broke in abruptly. "So he's having an affair?"

Mrs. Andrea Tindale, an attractive brunette in her late thirties, looked shocked for a moment, and close to tears. "Well, I'm not sure, Mr. Spencer. That's what you do, isn't it? Find out for sure?"

"Well, frankly, Mrs. Tindale, we don't take this kind of case –"

"But you work closely with the police, don't you?"

Gus and Shawn looked at each other, seeming to communicate their confusion telepathically. "Yes, but I don't see how –"

"My husband… is a police officer. He can't tell me a lot of what he does – or at least he says he can't. I thought if anyone would know what was going on, you would…" She rummaged in her purse, found a tissue and blotted a tear. "I just don't know what to do. I…"

Gus stared hard at Shawn, who rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders in defeat. "So he's Officer Tindale? What's his first name?"

"He's not a Tindale, I am. His name is Michael. Michael Santos." She sniffed again, her face crumpling. "I think he hates the fact that I kept my name."

Shawn looked away and Gus put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll see what we can do, Mrs. Tindale. Give us a couple days."

"Thank you." She stood, arranged her blouse self-consciously, and headed for the door. "The papers I gave you have his schedule – at least I think they do. Thank you for your help." She was out the door before they could say anything else. The partners stood quietly for a moment, staring after her.

"Well, that was weird."

Shawn nodded. "Par for the course." He took the papers that she had left and glanced over them, noting that her husband, a detective, should be on duty right now. "We should probably check with Jules. She might know the guy."

"You know, your dad might be-"

"I don't want to get him involved."

"Shawn, you know he's helped out before –"

"And I said I don't want to get him involved. Okay?"

"Yeah." Gus paused a moment before going on. "You going to be okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Gus dropped his head to the side in exasperation. "You know why, Shawn. I just don't know if you can be objective."

"I can be plenty objective." He rummaged in the drawer of his desk and pulled out the remains of his lunch. "Let's go talk to Jules."


	3. Reluctant Help

Santa Barbara Police Department

The sun was shining brilliantly on tile mosaics that bordered the walls in glossy jewel tones. Shawn Spencer ignored them completely, focusing on the lovely blond woman in front of him as he put out his most effective whine. "Come on, Jules. You must be able to tell us _something_ about him."

"I don't even know him. We've never worked together."

"Yeah, but still… you're both police officers. You both work here. That's like being in the same cub scout den, right?"

Officer Juliet O'Hara held back a sigh as she shifted the pile of paperwork on her desk. "Shawn, I told you –"

Burton Guster put a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Shawn. This doesn't sound like a good time. Let's leave her alone."

"Gus –"

She looked up at him gratefully. "Thank you, Gus. And you're right. This isn't a good time." Juliet closed a file and pushed back from her desk just as Detective Lassiter walked past a pillar in the classic brick building, catching sight of his least favorite detectives.

"O'Hara! I thought I told you –"

"Calm down, Lassie, she was just-"

"Carlton. I wasn't telling them anything!"

Gus stepped back, shaking his head slowly and staring down toward Juliet's desk as the three spoke simultaneously. This earned him a glare from Lassiter, who swept up the closed files on her desk and stepped chest to chest with him. "And what are you looking at, Guster?" Gus frowned defensively, backing up a step.

"Nothing!"

"They were closed, Carlton. And there's nothing to see, for Pete's sake." O'Hara swept over and pulled the files from his hands. "Like babysitting a bunch of children," she muttered as she stormed down to storage. The three men stared after her, slightly hurt, and then looked at each other, covering embarrassment with anger or annoyance, depending on their state of mind.

"Look, Spencer –"

"Lassie, Lassie… I'm just trying to find out about an officer –"

"Which is none of your business. You are _not_ a police officer –"

Gus stepped in front of his friend. "Detective Lassiter. We were just trying to get a performance evaluation on one of your men. A… Michael Santos?"

Lassiter blinked and tilted his head. "Who's asking?" he asked, with an aggressive shifting of his shoulders.

Gus and Shawn exchanged a look. "Ah… we are."

Lassiter looked down the hall and back to them. "Well, stop it." He glared at Shawn, at Gus, and back at Shawn, holding a finger up threateningly. "Just… stop it. Keep your nose out of police business."

As he walked away, the two detectives frowned. Gus shook his head. "Well, that went well."

"Yeah."

"What's got him all worked up? We haven't even seen him in almost two weeks."

"Maybe that's it." Shawn stared at Jule's desk, saw a file folder that she had left behind, empty, and glanced at the title. It read 'Disciplinary', but was, as he covertly double-checked, empty. "I don't know, Gus. Looks like we're up against a dead end here. We'll have to tell Mrs. Tindale that it just didn't work out, and we'll only charge for one day–"

"Shawn! We haven't even put in an hour on this."

"That's part of a day."

"Shawn." They walked silently out of the department building, and stood on the stairs, looking thoughtful. "You know, Shawn, there's one person we haven't checked with. One that could probably help a lot."

Shawn shook his head. "Not him. Not for this case."

"What's so different about this case?" He paused for a moment. "Like I didn't know."

Shawn gave him a side-long glance. "I'm not calling him." He started to trot down the stairs, Gus at his side. When he stopped and turned abruptly, poking Gus in the chest, it nearly knocked his partner over backwards. "And neither are you." Gus rolled his eyes.

"Fine, Shawn. But we're not done with this. Not yet. It wouldn't be fair."

* * *

Henry Spencer stood at his sink, staring at the two boys before him. _Men_, he reminded himself with some difficulty. They had been boys for so long, and now… With an exasperated look he turned and put the milk back in the refrigerator. "Listen, Shawn. If they don't want to talk to you about it, why should they talk to me?"

"Because, Dad, you were a cop. You're part of that exclusive brotherhood that seems only to be able to talk to each other… to work and fight and struggle together, and to drink in bars afterwards…"

"Shawn."

His son's reluctance to share this particular case with him was evident. "Whatever, Dad. But it's true, they're more likely to tell you something. You know it. And we're just trying to find out why this particular cop is cheating on his wife. Why he's destroying their marriage. Why he's throwing it away."

Henry leaned back on the sink, crossing his arms reluctantly on his chest as that comment settled between them. After a long moment, he said, "I don't know, Shawn. It sounds like they're really pulling back on this one."

Shawn looked at him, exasperated. "I know that much. And I'm hoping you can find out why."

Henry nearly sighed, but shifted his gaze to Gus instead. "What do you think?"

Gus jumped at the sudden question. "Frankly, Mr. Spencer, I think you're both right. They seemed really reluctant to talk to us, but I think they'll talk to you. It seemed almost like a 'cop' thing." He used air quotes to emphasize his thought. "Even Juliet seemed to be upset that we were asking. It was kind of weird."

Throwing up his hands, Henry conceded defeat. "Fine. What's this guy's name?"

Gus nearly smiled in relief. "Michael Santos."

The elder Spencer frowned. "Santos? You don't mean Arthur Santos, do you?"

The detective team looked at each other, and Gus spoke. "No, it's Michael. Why?"

Henry looked toward the window, shook his head, and looked back at his son. "Because Arthur Santos and I were partners, for a while. I think Michael was his son's name."

Shawn dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking at his father again. "Well. Doesn't that figure."


	4. Boys Night In

1987

It was late on a June evening. Two young men sat at a basement bar, looking despondently at the TV in the corner where a basketball game was unwinding. It was game three of the NBA finals, and Larry Bird was leading the Celtics to an unexpected victory. Not even Magic was able to turn the corner for the Lakers. As the station broke for a commercial, the boys let out nearly identical sighs, and turned their attention to the bottles on the bar in front of them. The blonder of the two picked up the white bottle, filled two tall glasses, while the darker lad filled two shot glasses with brown liquid, shook his head, and passed one to his friend.

"I thought we had it."

"Yeah." They lifted the shot glasses, toasted each other, and shot the root beer in one go. Then they chased it with the milk. Wiping their mouths on their sleeves, they clunked the glasses down, and Gus carefully refilled the root beer. "It was close."

"They'll win the next one."

"Yeah." Gus watched his friend for a moment, distracted by the expression in Shawn's eyes. "You okay?"

Shawn downed another shot before responding, motioning for Gus to refill his glass. "He's making me crazy, Gus."

"Yeah?"

"He wants me to be a cop."

Gus laughed. "Well, there's a shock. No one would have expected –"

"I won't."

"What?"

"I won't do it, Gus. I won't be a cop. Never."

Gus stared at him for a minute, frowning. "But… you'd be really good at it, Shawn. Nobody figures things out like you. And you've been saying for years that you wanted –"

"Not anymore. I don't want to be like him."

The sharpness of the response stopped Gus dead. He toyed with his glass, finally lifted it and sipped. "Okay. But… why?"

"Just… just because."

"Shawn –"

The post-game interviews started up, and Shawn frowned at the TV. "You wanna watch a movie?"

Gus, knowing the look, shrugged. "Sure. What do you have?"

His friend slipped off the barstool and over to the beautifully made shelving units that held the VHS collection. "Let's see… Star Trek IV, Karate Kid… Poltergeist?"

"I'd rather watch funny, after that game."

Shawn nodded sagely. "Yeah, I can see that. Maybe… " They looked at each other and grinned. Together, as Shawn pulled it off the shelf, they said, "Ghostbusters!" He slipped it into the player and hit rewind, coming back to the bar with the remote. Gus had refilled their glasses, and Shawn nodded gratefully.

"So, Shawn…"

"Yeah?"

Gus waited, and after a moment, Shawn downed another shot of root beer and stared at the wall before speaking. "They're arguing a lot."

Burton shrugged. "Mine do, too. It happens."

"Yeah, but this is …" he took a gulp from the bottle, forgetting himself, and refilled his shot glass. "It feels different."

"Okay." He watched Shawn for a minute. "Sorry, man." He watched, concerned, as Shawn frowned at his glass.

"It's about Dad working. A lot. And I think, what kind of work he's doing." Shawn's eyes closed as he pictured the scene from that morning. "Dad didn't come home last night. He came home this morning, he and Mom said something really quiet to each other…" he shifted, turning his head as he watched it unfold in his mind, his hand spread before him. "And then she ran upstairs and he just looked after her, shook his head, and went into the kitchen. I was just sitting down to have some cereal." He frowned; his eyes still closed, and shook his head. "He walked by me to the sink, didn't say anything, and I saw…"

The tape in the VCR chunked to a stop, and Shawn's eyes jerked open. Gus still was looking at his friend, concerned. "What did you see?"

Shawn looked at him for a second, then shook his head. "I'm not sure."

Pushed far enough, Gus spoke a bit more harshly than he might have. "Come on, Shawn."

Shawn glanced at him, shrugged. "There was red. Behind his ear."

Gus frowned. "Like blood?"

His friend laughed without humor. "No. Like… lipstick."

"Well, maybe your mom –"

"He hadn't been home all night, he was wearing his uniform. You know how careful he is with it."

"Yeah, but –"

"And he didn't think I saw, but I noticed he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. When he turned back from the sink, he had it on again. And he always wears it."

Gus sat back, staring. "Wow."

"Yeah. And he was wearing a different smell… his deodorant was real flowery smelling. He wears Old Spice."

Gus drank his root beer thoughtfully. "So… you think…"

Shawn shot his root beer and refilled the glasses again. "I'll let you know. But I don't know what else…" His eyes betrayed him by beginning to water. Grabbing the remote, Shawn pressed 'play'. Within moments they were blissfully distracted by the antics of Murray, Ramis, and Ackroyd.

Eventually they moved to the sofa, taking the bottle with them. When Henry came down at midnight, they were sound asleep on the couch, two empty bottles on the floor, a third on the bar. He shook his head with a grin, and pulled blankets from the chest that served as a coffee table and storage unit.

Covering them up, he leaned to kiss his son on the forehead, resting his hand on the boy's head for a long moment before turning off the lights and heading upstairs.

* * *

Present Day

Henry Spencer leaned back against the door of the captain's office, his arms folded over his chest. "I'm just saying… if you want me to keep an eye on him, I need to know what's going on."

"Mr. Spencer, you don't need to know what he's trying to get information about." The captain tilted her head, and smiled tightly. "It's internal, Henry. You know how it is."

He stepped forward and leaned his knuckles on her desk. "Yes, I do. And I'd like to know why a performance report, that's usually open, is shut so tight for him."

She shifted uncomfortably, glanced through the blinds covering her window walls and spoke in a near whisper, as if someone might overhear them. "He's undercover."

His expression froze for a moment, before an eyebrow lifted. "How deep?"

The captain nodded, a concerned look shadowing her eyes. "Deep."

Henry stood again, and his shoulders dropped. He looked off through the office windows, and back to the captain. "Is he clean?"

She frowned. "For God's sake, Henry. He's Arthur's son."

"I know that. I'm still asking."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "He's clean."

The senior Spencer nodded slowly. Then he turned, a hand on the door before he turned to look at her once more. "Thanks."

As she watched him walk down the hall, she exhaled heavily. Mumbling to herself as she sorted the files on her desk, she said, "I just wish this case were over."


	5. Tis the East

present day

"I'm telling you, Gus, I don't like it."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Shawn stared at him, barely blinked. "Well, fine. If you insist. The average land running speed of an English Setter is –"

"Stop."

"What? You're the one that said –"

"You know, I'm beginning to think you don't really want to get anywhere on this case."

"Beginning? Au contraire, mon ami. I've not wanted to get anywhere on this case for days."

They had been driving around for close to an hour, trying to figure out where they could find Santos, and more recently, whether they wanted fish tacos or Indian food. Tacos had finally won out, and they were heading for Sammie's Beachcomber to get them. The sun was low in the sky and they air was soft when abruptly, Shawn pounded his partner on the arm, whispering loudly. "Gus."

"Ouch. What?" Gus whispered in return.

"Pull over." Gus did, mumbling under his breath, and they idled quietly under a tree a hundred yards from a rather swanky restaurant. In front of the restaurant, well-dressed men with gorgeous women on their arms were walking in, ready for a romantic evening. "Look."

"At what? Petrocelli's? What about it? That place is always packed on a Friday night. And why are we whispering?"

Shawn glared at him, but spoke in a more normal voice. "Take a look at who's there." Shawn rummaged quickly in the glove compartment and handed Gus the binoculars.

Gus frowned at his partner and took them, shaking his head. "I don't know what you –" He stopped, took the lenses away from his eyes, frowned at the restaurant, and looked through them again. "Is that…"

"Yeah. It's Juliet."

Gus whistled softly. "Wow. It sure is." The woman in question was wearing a slim gown of midnight blue silk that caught the light in tantalizing ways.

"Come on."

It took a moment for Gus to realize his partner was leaving the car. "Shawn, wait! What do you think you're doing?"

"Reconnaissance."

"Shawn, come on. She's clearly on a date."

"Exactly. And I'd like to know who with." Shawn ducked out of the car and headed, with a casual speed, toward the restaurant.

"'With whom'. And it's none of our business if - Shawn!" Gus shook his head, hesitated, and followed. "I'm gonna regret this."

They walked into the restaurant and strolled inside. The maitre-de looked them over with no little disdain. "Reservations?"

"No, my good man. We're meeting some friends. We'll just…" Shawn edged toward the dining room, but the headwaiter was too fast for him.

"Monsieur will wait here?"

"Monsieur will do nothing of the sort. We've got friends in there. _'Aimee's'_, as a matter of fact. Just let me –" He saw Juliet sitting at a table with a dark-haired man, and turned back to the host. "And there they are. Thank you, so much, for your assistance." He was ready to walk across the restaurant when she leaned toward her date, laughing with a smile so eager that it made Shawn's stomach turn over. Then her eyes drifted toward him, and the abrupt shock and anger he saw there made it drop completely. She excused herself and strode to where he was standing, still at the maitre-de's station.

"Shawn," she hissed quietly. "What the hell are you doing here?" He couldn't help noticing that even though she was clearly furious with him, the blue in the gown set off her eyes beautifully.

"You look amazing."

She blinked, only thrown for a moment. "Thank you. I just got it, and – oh, for heaven's sake. Answer the question. And if it has 'following you' anywhere in the answer, I'm going to –" She stopped as he looked away from her eyes and over her shoulder. Her eyes rolled as she whispered under her breath. "Crap."

Her date stepped up, slightly annoyed. "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Johnny. It's fine, it's just -

The big man looked down his nose at Shawn. "And this is…?"

"I'm –"

Shawn didn't get a chance to finish as Juliet broke in sharply. "He's Shawn. And he needs to stop following me around. I told you. There's nothing between us. And if there ever was, it's over." Her tone was taut, and the big man standing next to her looked at Shawn with a combination of contempt and pity.

"Ah. A stalker, eh? Well, Mr. Shawn, perhaps you should leave now. Before someone has to make you leave."

Shawn looked at Juliet for a long moment but she wouldn't meet his eyes, staring angrily away from him. For the first time in a long time, he found himself without words, or even an imaginary reason to be somewhere. "Well, then. I apologize. Sorry to have bothered you." He turned toward the door and back, lifting a hand as if he were going to pursue the matter, then stopped. "Enjoy your dinner."

Gus followed him to the door, stopping only for a moment at the threshold to look back to where Juliet and Johnny sat, clearly enjoying each other's company once more. Shaking his head, he followed his partner out to the car.

They drove for a few minutes before either spoke. It was Gus who broke the silence. "So Shawn… I'm thinking, if you really want to drop this case - I mean, if it really bothers you, maybe we should –"

"No, Gus. I want to get this guy."

Gus gave him a sideways glance as they turned into Sammie's parking lot. "Really."

"Yeah."

"How come?"

Shawn stared intently at the dashboard, then gave Gus a charming smile. "Because she – because _anyone_ in that position deserves to know what the hell is going on."

Gus looked sideways over at his best friend, and decided to say nothing.

* * *

Henry Spencer rolled his eyes as he prolonged washing out his mug, keeping his back rather pointedly at his only son. "I told you, Shawn, leave it alone. The captain didn't tell me anything."

Shawn squinted at the balding head and looked exasperated. "If she didn't tell you anything, why is there something to 'leave alone'?"

His father turned slowly. "Okay. Perhaps the better phrase is 'leave me alone'. I got nothing. It happens."

There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Eventually, Shawn said, "Wow."

"What?"

"You're usually a much better liar than that. Must be something big, eh?" The edge of anger in his voice set his father off, and Henry pushed past him into the living room.

"Drop it, Shawn. Just drop it."

"What if I don't? What if _this time_, I don't just drop it."

Henry swiveled around to look at him again, and they stared again, hard and angry. "This time? What the hell are you –"

"I know what happened, dad. I know."


	6. What Shawn Saw

Sorry for the delay on this one… I thought about it so long, I believe my mind thought it was finished. A thank you to Dickensian812, who with the stroke of a review put it back on my radar after weeks of White Collaring…

* * *

oOo

* * *

"You think you know something. Well, there's a shock."

"Glib doesn't suit you, Dad. It's never been something you've been able to pull off well. You just don't have the jawline for it."

Henry threw down the dishtowel and crossed his arms on his chest. "Okay, Shawn. You're a big boy. Act like one. Either tell me what you want to tell me, or get the hell out of here."

They stared at each other for a long moment, until Gus came back into the room. "Thanks again for dinner, Mr. Spencer. I do love your steaks."

He noticed the glare between father and son, and realized that if he had walked between them at that moment, he might have spontaneously combusted. Part of him wanted to ask what was wrong, but he'd been burned on that road too often before. He cleared his throat, and Shawn turned to look at him, his eyes, as they always were after an altercation with his father, half-closed and shielded.

"Ah, you ready to go, Shawn? I do have some paperwork to finish up before tomorrow…"

His words went unheeded in the silent storm that was unfolding in front of him. As Shawn turned back to his father, Gus could have sworn he felt something in the air, something tangible, go _snap_.

"Fine, Dad. Fine." Shawn glared at his father, feeling the dam of decades of suppressed anger abruptly come crashing down.

"I was _there_, Dad. I was there, that morning you came home, having been out all night. The morning you had another woman's lipstick on your ear, for pete's sake, _and_ smelled of her perfume. The morning that you didn't have your wedding ring on when you came home… and it _wasn't the first time_. Not by a long shot!" He spilled it all out, and couldn't for the life of him understand why his father wasn't reacting more.

His father was staring at him with a slight frown. "Shawn, I don't know what you're –"

"I saw you missing the ring before. I smelled perfume before. At _least_ a year before! Don't you get it?"

Henry opened his mouth, but Shawn kept going, the words spilling out uncontrolled. "But that day, _that_ day was the day mom told me we were leaving. But I _knew _it would fall apart. I already knew!"

He stalked a pace closer, silent for a moment as his expressive eyes tried to find some reaction in his father's unresponsive ones. After an unsuccessful moment, he practically hissed the words he'd wanted to say for so long. "_I_ knew you were having an affair before _Mom_ did! And it was your fault that I knew. Yours." His voice cracked slightly, and tears he had held back for twenty years welled in his eyes. "How could you _do_ that to me? How could you train me to see all the details, every incriminating bit, and then let me see _that_? Who does that to a ten-year old?" He gasped a breath. "Who does that to their _son_?"

Henry reached out, frowning, shaking his head. "Shawn –"

A sob choked free, and Shawn swore under his breath. The last thing he wanted was for his father to see him cry. He furtively wiped his face on his sleeve, and stared at the floor, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "Come on, Gus, we've got to go."

When Henry Spencer finally looked away from his son, his expression revealed very little. "Gus, I'll drive Shawn home. We've got some unfinished business."

Shawn shrugged into his jacket, a sarcastic grin lighting his features in a not terribly pleasant way, but letting him find a channel for his emotions. "Oh, come now, Dad. We've had unfinished business for so long, we may as well –" He was cut off by the loud ring of his father's cell phone. As Henry grunted in exasperation and automatically reached to answer it, the younger Spencer shook his head, motioned to Gus and headed out the door.

"Come on, Gus." They trotted down the sidewalk to the car, and Shawn yanked the passenger side door open, threw himself inside, and slammed the door as if he had a personal grudge against it.

In the car, Gus waited a second before starting the engine. "Shawn…"

"Let's go."

"Shawn…" He watched his friend struggle, and felt like he was ten again. "Can I do anything?"

Shawn's voice was a controlled whisper. "No. Yes. Get me out of here."

Gus took deep breath, reached to touch his friends shoulder, and, at the last minute, turned it into picking a piece of dust off his jacket instead. "Okay. Where do you want -" He reached for the ignition as Shawn watched the piece of lint fall slowly to the floor.

"Wait."

His friend waited and watched with some concern as Shawn frowned, stared for a moment, and then closed his eyes.

"Shawn? Why am I waiting?"

"Because…" he paused, but realized that he was talking to the only person in the world who wouldn't find this either stupid or unusual. "I remembered some things about Juliet."

Gus nodded. He knew how random his partner's brain could be when it came to putting things together, and how heightened emotional situations seemed to trigger unlikely connections. Grateful for any distraction from the emotional scene, he took a breath. "Okay. Like what?"

"Well –"

Shawn closed his eyes and pictured Juliet's desk, the day they were at the precinct office. He could picture life, as always, as if it were a movie he could stop and start, or a football film he could stop and make strategy markings on.

He saw the file on her desk, _empty_. He saw Lassiter come running up to stop them from talking to her, _more upset than usual, even for him_. Juliet repeated in his mind, _'I didn't tell them anything_.' Suddenly the film switched to the night at the restaurant. The people outside. A well-dressed man with a tailored ponytail near the door, waiting for his date, presumably… who took a more than casual interest in the beautiful woman in blue –_ and her date_. Juliet striding towards them, telling them to leave. A _long, dark hair_ on her shoulder, when her date's hair was _short, slicked back waves_.

He frowned. He tried to refocus on the man by the door, see his face, but he had been so distracted by Juliet –

It came suddenly "Santos." His eyes popped open as he gasped out the word.

Gus turned the key, starting the car's engine. "Where?"

"Santos. He was at the restaurant, Gus. He was there… watching Juliet." Shawn frowned, trying to piece things together. "And Johnny, too."

"Why would an off duty cop be at an expensive restaurant, watching another cop –"

"And we couldn't get a performance review on him –"

"Because they're not sure he's clean?"

Their eyes widened, and Gus shifted the car into reverse just as Henry came flying out the front door. "Shawn! Wait!"

Shawn looked exasperated at the interruption, his argument with his father miles away. "Not now, Dad. We have to-"

His father held up a hand, stopping him. "That was Karen. Juliet's at the hospital."

Both of the younger men gaped in shock, but Gus found his voice first. "Is she –"

"Alive. Don't know anything else yet."


End file.
